


The vilest torture of all (Thai Mol Piyas)

by LittleMermaidsBestFriend



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur suffers, Canon Universe, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, References to by Notre-Dame de Paris | The Hunchback of Notre Dame, What Have I Done, kind of, not really - Freeform, tavern song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24926497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMermaidsBestFriend/pseuds/LittleMermaidsBestFriend
Summary: Arthur wanders Camelot at night and sees things he wishes he didn't
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	The vilest torture of all (Thai Mol Piyas)

**Author's Note:**

> Strongly based on this song 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOOp4k1CaGA

Arthur couldn’t sleep. He was tossing and turning in his dark chamber for what felt like an eterinty. Tired of his own restlesness, he finally decided to leave the castle. Putting on his least-kingly clothes and what Merlin called the Infamous Sneak-Cloak, he left the cold walls of the fortress and allowed his feet to walk him wherever they wished to go.

In the hindsight it might have been a mistake. Soon enough he found himself in the part of the Lower Town he did not recognize, which was an absurd in itself – he was the king, he should know his city. That notwithstanding, he had no idea whatsoever where he was.

He kept on wandering, hoping he would finally get somewhere familiar, but the streets of the place resembled a labirynth, one he could not exit. It seemed as if the town changed as he walked, leading him into the unkown, something pulling him deeper and deeper into the maze.

Then he heard music; it was like a thunder in the otherwise silent city. His legs moved in spite of himself, sounds pulling him towards themselves like sirens luring careless sailors. When he got closer, he was able to make out the song; it was a language he did not know, but the words sounded lustful, sin dripping from every syllable like poison. He wanted to stop, to turn around, but he couldn’t, his body opposing his mind.

And suddenly, he stopped. In front of him was the source of the song, a tavern called Eve’s Apple. Only then did he realise that the seemingly unfamiliar streets of the Lower Town were in fact inhabitated by Gypsies, who came to Camelot to spend winter there. At the thought of winter he suddenly shivered, frigid air finally catching up to him. It pushed him into the tabernacle, straight into the arms of the warm light and wicked music. He shfted into the dark corner, not allowing himself to be seen, and then he took in the commotion inside.

He couldn’t breathe. The tavern was bathed in colours he thought did not exist, light fabrics swishing around in a rainbow-like vortex, air thick with sickingly sweet perfume mixed with bitter smell of ale, many voices harmonizng in his ears, making him giddy. He felt as if he found himself in heaven, he felt as if he found himself in hell.

And amongst everything he spotted Merlin, of all people. He then recalled the last conversation between them: Merlin told him that he and Gwaine will visit the Gypsies. And now the boy was swirlling with angel-like grace, dancing with men and women alike. One of the men tossed his colorful cloak on Merlin’s arms, and it embeded him in something that certainly must have been magic. Arthur couldn’t bear to watch and yet he stood there, frozen in place, his eyes stuck on him, something like a void, hot and cold at the same time, weitghing heavily inside his chest. It was the vilest torture he could imagine, watching the boy being so close and yet so far away, slipping through his fingers all the time.

The kiss was too much. One moment his manservant was dancing and singing, and in the next his mouth was pressed onto one of the Gypsy boys around his age. Arthur saw Merlin, his Merlin, melting under the gyspy touch, arms hanging loosely around the other man’s waist.

The world became a blur then, and when Arthur finally came to, he was leaning on a castle wall, panting, with that awful song stuck in his ears despite the distance. He felt hot tears prickling his eyes, falling on his cheeks, burining all the ways he couldn’t love on his face. Merlin was never his, he realised, and he could never be. Arthur was a king, and Merlin was a servant, and fate was cruel, oh so cruel, to tantalise him with something he could never possess. The vilest torture of all, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really, really sorry. You can shout at me


End file.
